First Night Out After Bub
- Jessie Maris
- 19 minutes ago
- 2 min read
Updated: 6 minutes ago
I remember my first night out after Bub like it was yesterday.
Standing there, staring at my wardrobe, I thought: what the actual fuck am I going to wear?
Nothing fit.
My boobs were a different shape. My feet were still swollen. I couldn’t even get my go-to heels on. The ones that used to make me feel unstoppable. My old faithfuls betrayed me.
I started pulling things off hangers. One by one, denim dresses why did I own so many denim dresses? Tried them on. Nope.
Won’t zip up. Nope. Hugs my new mum tum all wrong. Nope. Nope. Nope.
I looked around at the pile of clothes now strewn across the floor. Did I actually wear this stuff out before? Like, out out?
My teacher wardrobe was full of colourful dresses. But that’s not what we wear for a night out, right? I mean… it used to be skinny jeans, a block colour top, and heels. Standard clubbing uniform.
But the thought of wearing anything but my sneakers made me want to cry. Will they even let me in with sneakers? I remembered being bounced from Cloudland so many times for looking “too casual”. Is Cloudland even still a thing?
I poured a glass of wine. That’ll help.
Then felt my cheeks go all rosy. Great. Now I’ll look flushed before I even leave.
The baby started crying. Of course. I still hadn’t decided what to wear and I had to be out the door in 30 minutes.
I tied up my hair. Safe move. I just didn’t have the time to wash and blowdry it.
In the end, I just threw on a dress and my denim jacket. I looked in the mirror and thought: everyone is going to know I’m a mum.
And then I thought… so what?
This is me now.
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